


Looking for Natasha

by orphan_account



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-25
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-09 11:22:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/773650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I sat in the pew and watched the love of my life marry another man."<br/>Clint recounts a series of events, which all started with a promise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The promise I could never keep

**Author's Note:**

> So the other day I was listening to the radio and they were doing a book review for a book called Six Years. I can't remember who it was by but they read out the first line and I got inspired instantly. Six Years sounds really good, by the way. I'm going to check it out and maybe you should too.

I sat in the pew and watched the love of my life marry another man.  
The church was grey, dismal. In fact, the whole room had a certain negative vibe to it. Or maybe that was just my biased opinion. Weddings were supposed to be happy. So why was I so glum?  
The answer was simple.  
She didn't pick me.  
I'd dressed up for the occasion. A nice suit, nice tie. I'd made myself look presentable. I felt bad, you know. For not really trying.  
But she'd left me.  
Stupid Spangles.

I think I missed the vows. I might have zoned out after the vicar said Nat's name. One minute they were smiling at each other, next they were snogging whilst everyone cheered. I begrudgingly joined in the applause. I should have felt happy for her. But I'd just had my heart broken, so I think I can be excused.

I won't go into details. I think I left after everyone and got a cab to the reception venue.  
"Good wedding?" The driver had asked me. A pointless question really. A wedding is just a wedding. I decided to be honest with him.  
"Positively heartbreaking." I looked out of the window. Rain might have mirrored my mood but the sun was shining. A perfect day. How irritating.  
"Oh," had been the reply. We sat in silence for the rest of the journey.

I spent most of the after party sitting with Coulson, sipping various alcoholic drinks. No one approached us. We just sat, quietly, observing the mad, drunk Stark dancing on the tables.

At sometime after midnight, I went out onto the balcony for some air. I didn't want to stay, but I had to. For Nat.  
So I stood, looking at the bright city lights and enjoying the cool nighttime atmosphere. Then I heard her behind me. I sighed.  
"So you finally came to say hello," I muttered.  
"I was going to say more, but if hello will suffice, then I'll be on my way."  
"You're married."  
"Well observed, bird brain."  
"Please. Whatever you've come to say, get it out. And don't apologise."  
"I wasn't going to apologise." She was standing next to me now.  
"Natasha Rogers-Romanoff. Is that what you are now."  
"Who, Clint. Not what."  
I mumbled some kind of apology.  
"We're leaving for a bit," she told me.  
"I know what a honeymoon is, Nat."  
"Actually, a bit longer. We're going to reside in England for a while."  
"Oh. How long?"  
"Well, we can continue our work there for a substantial period of time."  
" _How long?_ "  
"As long as we can, Clint." I didn't reply for a long time. Then I sighed and spoke.  
"I'll come visit," I assured her.  
"No."  
"No?"  
"Don't. Please. Not for a while. I'm starting with Steve. I don't want you to come and be sullen and grumpy because you don't like him."  
"When am I sullen and grumpy?" I was being sullen and grumpy. She pointed that out to me.  
"Oh," was all I could reply.  
"I'll visit you when I'm ready."  
"Oh."  
"I'm not ready yet."  
"Oh."  
"Are you listening to me?"  
"O- yes."  
"Clint."  
"Natasha."  
"Promise me you'll leave us alone."  
"Until you're ready?"  
"Until I'm ready."  
Needless to say, this moment crushed me. I was glad she couldn't see the tears in my eyes.  
"I promise."  
"Thank you."

And all she left me with was a peck on the cheek.  
And a promise I could never keep.


	2. Americans

She didn't come back. 5 years passed. The longest years of my life. Many times I had considered going to see her. But I made a promise. I knew I could easily find out her new address by looking into some S.H.I.E.L.D. database but I didn't try. Not until one mission.  
It was standard protocol really. An infiltration mission packed with long details which I won't recall as it is far too tedious. But the mission was in England. I had that burning curiosity. So I took a peek. Central London, not far from where I was. I knew that when I made the promise I could never keep it. But I felt bad for going against my word.  
To make the guilt go away I had to remind myself of one thing.  
She left me. She ripped my heart in two and stapled it back together. Horribly messy.  
And with that thought in my mind, I reached the door.  
It was a small house. Nice, though. The sort of place I'd like to have in the future. I hated it. Every little flower by the window bugged me. She was living the good life. Without me. And that brought out spite and jealousy.  
"Oi!" Someone had opened the door. For a split second I thought it was Nat. But it was a male voice. Steve? No. Before me was a large, pot-bellied man. His top barely stretched over his large front, showing a large array of tattoos. He was bald and his face covered with stubble. His mouth was set in a firm frown and in his hand was a rolled up magazine of some sort. Some may have found this man to be intimating but I sensed a trace of vulnerability in his pale blue eyes.  
"What's it you want, sonny?"  
"Is this your residence?" I asked.  
He muttered something rude about Americans and then spoke to me.  
"Yeah. What's it to you?"  
I cleared my throat. "Well, actually I'm looking for a friend. She used to live here." I paused. "I think."  
"Got a name, mate?"  
"Clint Barton."  
"I meant your lady friend." Again with the rude American mutter.  
"Oh. Romanoff. Natasha Romanoff."  
The man was quiet and then stepped to the side of the door frame.  
"Come in." I obliged. He motioned for me to sit on the armchair. I did so and looked around. The interior was scrappy, unlike the outside. Magazines and crisp packets lined the floor. He sat down opposite me and offered some beer. I declined but he handed me a can anyway.  
I took a sip as he spoke.  
"Name's Brad, by the way." He seemed to be expecting some kind of reply.  
I awkwardly sipped. "Nice name, Brad. Friend of a friend of mine had a chicken-"  
He cut me off. "So your lady friend? Natasha Rommyboff, was it?"  
"Romanoff-" I then realised my mistake. I couldn't let go. "Actually, it was Rogers. Natasha Rogers." I never liked the sound of it.  
"Mhm, yeah. Rings a bell. Natasha Rogers." He muttered to himself for a bit and then his face went grave. "Oh. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."  
"What?"  
"She ain't here no more."  
"Well obviously."  
"No, I mean she ain't with us."  
"Like how?"  
"Like dead." I was crushed. That was the worst moment of my life. It took me completely by shock and my insides felt like they were going to spill all over the floor. Thousands of emotions crashed into me at the same time. It was awful. I couldn't keep a lid on it. Unprofessional.  
However.  
That jerk. He started laughing.  
"OH MAN YOU SHOULD'VE SEEN YOUR FACE. That was brill. I got you, mate. I totally got you!"  
"What?!"  
"I was joking, mate. Never heard the name Rogers in this house."  
I could've smashed his head right in that second. Blind rage. But I finally got the lid on and took a slow, civil sip from my beer.  
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he stopped laughing and looked me in the eye. Straight and honest. "You really do care about her, don't you?"  
I sighed and finished my beer. "Yes. Is that what the world wants to flipping know? I care about Natasha. Heck, maybe I love her." I put my head in my hands. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder.  
"Don't let anything divert you from the path of true love." Well that came as a shock. Then he laughed again. "I'm feeling a tad drunked up." He clapped my back and dragged me up. "Good luck in finding your girl, mate." I was dragged and shoved out of the door.  
"You seriously know nothing?" I looked at him, annoyed. He smiled sweetly and shut the door in my face.  
I could've sworn I heard him again mutter something rude about Americans


End file.
